


Say you'll remember me

by alycat, MooseKing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crossdressing, Feminization, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alycat/pseuds/alycat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKing/pseuds/MooseKing
Summary: Steve is trying to move on after his mother's death, which isn't easy when he can't even bear to be separated from her belongings. Moving in with his best friend and possible love of his life, surprisingly; doesn't help. But in the midst of his grief, Steve discovers something that will forever change his perception of himself.





	Say you'll remember me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the amazing art by [MooseKing](http://king-of-moose.tumblr.com/), which in turn was inspired by the song [Wildest Dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aK4YSx3ddc) by Taylor Swift. The SFW art included in the story.
> 
> A big thank you to my girl Ashtraythief and my beta all_the_damned. And of course thank you to the mods for arranging it, and for ALL the awesome people in the CapRBB Slack channel!
> 
> The biggest thank you to my wonderful artist, be sure to leave her all the love she deserves!

 

**October, 1936**

Heavy rain turned the already grey streets of Brooklyn even darker, blurring the edges. The few people out in the poor weather sheltered under thin umbrellas and kept their heads down. It seemed fitting to Steve, that the world wept with him as he watched his mother's simple casket being lowered into the ground. Behind him Bucky was a solid presence, not close enough to be touching but still close enough that Steve could almost feel the heat from Bucky's body radiating against his back.

He had told Bucky and the entire Barnes clan that they didn't need to come. It had been just him and his mother for so long and in a way it felt fitting that it should be only them at the end, a final good-bye. That was not how things had worked out, though, and several neighbors had gathered around under their umbrellas, heads down as Sarah Rogers was laid to rest next to her husband.

"Come, Stevie," Bucky said, his voice pitched low and only for Steve's ears. "Let's head back, you don't want to see more."

It was true, watching the dirt landing on the coffin made Steve want to cry, but even though the sky was opening up above him, Steve's cheeks remained dry. He heard the hollow sound of wet dirt hitting the top of the coffin, a sound he knew he would remember for the rest of his life.When Bucky put a hand on Steve's shoulder to guide him away from the open grave, Steve went willingly, no desire to watch his mother's casket disappear into the muddy ground.

"Want to get a ride with my parents?" Bucky asked, nodding towards the edge of the graveyard where the Barnes' family car stood parked, gleaming in the downpour.

He should probably go with them, squeeze in with his friend in the cramped interior of the car, get back to the small apartment that he and his mother had shared, but something stopped him. In that moment he was much too vulnerable to spend time with Bucky. Steve didn't want to think about what might slip when he felt like he was breaking.

"Thanks, Buck," Steve said with a weak smile. "I just need to be alone for awhile."

Bucky looked like he wanted to say something but instead his gaze dropped to his feet for a moment before he nodded. He pulled back the hand resting on Steve's shoulder; the spot felt colder than the rest of Steve’s chilled body. Bucky took a step back before he turned to join his parents.

Walking from Holy Cross Cemetery all the way back to Brooklyn Heights would take Steve a long time, even more so with the rain hammering down against his umbrella, but he hoped that the time would help him clear his mind. After the Barnes’ car left, the rest of the small gathered crowd walked over to give Steve their condolences before dispersing. Steve gave the grave one last look before he walked away, leaving his mother behind.

The downpour trickled off before he had managed to get thirty minutes of the way home, which was just as well since Steve's old umbrella had so many holes in it that it didn’t really keep him dry. Folding it together also made it easier to get past other people on the streets; no risk of accidentally hitting people with the umbrella and cause interactions he for once wasn't willing to have. With the rain stopping and the sky slowly turning from slate grey to clear blue, more and more people were walking the streets. Steve found himself pushed by the increasing crowd and it wasn't the first time that people didn't notice him until they found him to be in their way.

"Sorry, ma'am," Steve said when a woman almost tripped over but she didn't respond, just looked him up and down before disappearing down the street.

Ordinarily, Steve would have cared more, annoyance welling up within him, but instead he just sighed and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Slowly he made his way through the bustling city and towards the small apartment he had shared with his mother for as long as he could remember. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had left her buried in a hole in the ground, and somehow he was supposed to go on with his life. Going back to the home they had shared, with the knowledge that his mother would never be there to greet him when he got home, that was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Keeping his head down, he slowly made his way through the streets of Brooklyn, not really thinking of where he was going but instead letting his feet take him on a path that was familiar from all the times he had gone with his mother to visit his father's grave.

The apartment might be small, but with his and his mother's combined money they had managed to make it as nice as possible, every now and then able to buy things that were just for comfort and not for survival. They hadn't had much, but they had gotten by. Without his mother there, Steve wasn't sure how he would make ends meet. He would have to stop taking classes, that much was clear, because if he wanted to earn enough money there would be no time for school anymore, even the part-time school he and Bucky attended.

Walking back to Brooklyn Heights took over two hours and by the time he turned into the familiar street, Steve's feet were aching and the soggy newspapers filling out his too big shoes had begun to chafe. Each breath he took was burning in his chest and he knew he really should have taken the offered ride. Turning into the small courtyard, he wasn't surprised to find Bucky waiting for him, still dressed in the suit that he had worn for the funeral. Bucky had always cared for Steve, even if it wasn't in the way that Steve longed for.

"I'm okay, Bucky," Steve wheezed out, continuing up the stairs to the second floor apartment.

"My parents were a bit disappointed, they really wanted to give you a ride from the cemetery."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just...kind of wanted to be alone," Steve explained, knowing that Bucky would understand but his family wasn’t always as perceptive.

"Understandable. How was the walk?" Bucky asked.

"It was fine. Thought about ma, but it's okay. She's next to dad." It wasn't really what Bucky had asked, but it was what Steve forced himself to focus on. That his mother was back with her husband after so long apart.

"I was gonna ask…" Bucky said, voice going softer.

Steve was already ready for what Bucky was going to say., He had known this particular suggestion was going to come from the moment it had become clear that Sarah Rogers would not be able to shake off her disease. He had also been practicing ways to turn Bucky down, because living with Bucky, Steve knew his feelings would be close to impossible to hide. And there was no doubt that Bucky was very much into dames, not a queer like Steve.

"I know what you're gonna say, Buck. I just…"

Going through his pockets Steve looked for the key he was sure he had somewhere, fumbling as he went through his too big clothes but not coming up with anything but a few coins.

"We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It'll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash," Bucky said, turning around to kick aside the brick that hid Steve's spare key. "Come on."

"Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own," Steve said, ignoring the warm feeling he couldn't stop from rising inside, even though he knew it was fruitless.

"The thing is, you don't have to," Bucky said, reaching out to grab Steve's shoulder firmly. "I'm with you till the end of the line, pal."

For the first time since his mother had passed away, Steve felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and he looked up to meet Bucky’s gaze. His friend looked back at him, more serious than Steve would ever have expected and in that moment Steve knew that he would say yes, even if it might break his heart.

"You know I like having you around," Bucky said, confirming what Steve had thought but not really allowed himself to fully believe until Bucky said it himself. "Please, Stevie? You and me, pal."

Steve closed the door behind them and shrugged out of his grey jacket, putting it over a rickety old chair. He cast a quick glance around the apartment, knowing there was no way he could stay there without thinking of his mother every second of the day. Sharing a living space with Bucky wouldn't be easy, but it would be better than being alone.

"If you're sure," Steve said, watching Bucky's smile go wide in a way that made his heart clench. "Then yes, I'll share an apartment with you."

 

**June, 1937**

Steve looked at the boxes that had been haphazardly piled in the corner of the kitchen, things he hadn't been able to get himself to touch since he had carried them into the small apartment he shared with Bucky. He probably wouldn't have touched them for a long time yet, but that morning Bucky had offered to move the boxes into the cramped little attic space they had and Steve was far from ready to hide the memory of his mother away. If the choice was between hiding and dealing, then Steve needed to start dealing.

He still missed the apartment he had shared with his mother, the familiar walls and floors marked from the times his mother had dropped something or a chair had scraped over the hard wood floors. Steve grabbed one of the boxes and dragged it out into the main room but he couldn't get himself to open it. The other box still left in the kitchen was bad enough, full of small mementos from the life he'd had before his mother's passing but the one in front of him was full of Sarah Roger’s personal items.

"You can do this," he mumbled to himself, letting his fingers slide over the top of the box.

Opening the box, Steve looked down at the item at the top, a white scarf with black polkadots that had been one of his mother's favorites and Steve remembered all the small errands, all the paintings he had sold to be able to gift it to her. Lifting the soft scarf up, Steve couldn't stop himself from burying his nose in it. He wasn't sure if it was really there or just a figment of his imagination, but he thought he could smell his mother's perfume and he had to fight to keep the tears at bay. He thought he had been doing well, had managed to get a hold of his life once more, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to have his mother back and be wrapped up in her arms.

Without thinking he put the scarf around his neck, reveling in the soft feel of it and he could easily remember the way his mother had smiled when he had given it to her, the pride in her eyes. The next item was a small box and Steve picked it up, running his fingers over the smooth wood. Pulling in a deep breath, he slowly opened the lid to see his mother's pearl necklace inside. She had never had much jewelry that was worth something, and the cheap everyday stuff Steve hadn't saved. Even though the pearl necklace was worth a lot, he could never see himself selling it, and he knew that Bucky understood, even when money ran low.

"I miss you, ma," Steve said to himself, letting his fingers run over the slightly uneven pearls.

Bucky's parents were nice to him, but they could never replace his ma.

Looking down into the box, there were piles of books and other beloved mementos that he knew his mother had cherished, but even after two items Steve was sure that he would never be able to get rid of any of the items. The problem was that the small space that he and Bucky shared didn't have room for these mementos. For a while it would have to be enough for Steve to take out the items and remember his mother from the things that had meant so much to her. For the time being, he closed the box and dragged it back from where he had taken it. It was only when he got back to the worn, old couch that he realized the scarf was still wrapped around his neck and Steve couldn't get himself to put it away again. Instead he wore it as he sat down to draw the small portraits and landscapes that he usually managed to sell for a few coins to people in the neighborhood. It wasn't until he realized that Bucky would soon be coming home that he regretfully pulled it off and and hid it away in one of his drawers in the dresser they had managed to score when neighbors moved out.

He had barely sat back down on the couch when the front door opened and Bucky came in, a small brown bag in his hand. As always, seeing Bucky made something inside of Steve go warm, but he pushed that feeling aside and focused the bag in Bucky's hand.

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky said, shrugging out of the dusty jacket he had been wearing while working down at the docks. "I got us some bread on the way home, and some smoked fish. Not much, but it was cheap."

Steve smiled as the scent from the bag reached him, and he realized that aside from the stale bread he'd had for breakfast, he hadn't really eaten all day. Bucky's raised eyebrow told Steve that his friend knew it. Not that they had much that could be considered edible at home.

"I'll get plates," Bucky said, dropping the bag in Steve's lap and walking to the kitchen.

Steve put the bag on the small coffee table, opening it up and taking out four flatbreads, inhaling the scent of the pita from Damascus Bakery. It wasn't often they took the time to walk by that bakery, it being a bit too far away from their apartment, so each time he could smell some of their baking it was a real treat.

"Get some glasses as well," he called out to Bucky.

"I thought you were the one supposed to shine my shoes, not me doing your bidding," Bucky answered, but when he came out of the kitchen he had piled plates, glasses, forks and a small pitcher of water on a tray.

"Hilarious, Buck," Steve said with a smirk. "Let's eat."

Bucky sat down next to Steve on the couch, and they shared the bread and fish between them, Bucky ignoring Steve's attempts to give Bucky the bigger part of their meal. All in all, it was a good evening and Steve forgot about the boxes in the kitchen and the soft scarf hidden away, for the time being. Instead he focused on being there with Bucky, close enough that their knees touched, and it had to be enough.

-¤-

Steve was sure he should stop wearing the scarf when home alone, but it was something that allowed him to feel closer to his mother and Steve had gotten used to feeling the soft cloth around his neck when he was alone, his fingers stroking over it without him really thinking about it.

Unable to focus on his drawings, neither of the small portrait or the Tijuana bible he was working on, Steve got up from the kitchen table and dragged his chair over to the boxes he hadn't touched in over a week. He put aside the one he had already looked into, instead opening the second one, a much lighter one filled with his mother's clothes. On the very top was the one dress that he knew his mother had loved above all else.

It was a soft white dress with black trim and a high collar, buttons running up the front. As he touched it, Steve remembered just how his mother had looked in it, the way she had smiled when wearing it. She had been beautiful. Steve picked up the dress and walked over to the old mirror with the cracked corner that leaned against one wall.

Steve didn't look like a girl, that much he knew and yet, there was something there when he held up the soft dress in front of him, tilting his head to the side and meeting his reflection. He put one hand against the dress, pressing it against his own waist and moved from side to side, the fabric swishing softly and Steve found himself smiling. Sarah Rogers had been beautiful, and Steve would never look like her, but with the dress feeling soft under the tips of his fingers, he wondered if maybe he could be good enough.

Good enough for Bucky.

With that hopeless fantasy in his mind he stripped out of his clothes, carefully folding them and putting them on the kitchen table before pulling on the dress and buttoning it up. It fit better than he thought it would, a bit wide over the chest but otherwise flattering. He took a few deep breaths before looking in the mirror and his eyes widened in surprise. Had he ever guessed, he would've been sure that the white of the dress would make him look too pale, but instead it managed to bring out the slight pink of his cheeks and lips and his eyes looked bluer than he'd ever seen them before. Moving closer to the mirror, Steve let his hands move over his hips and up his side, feeling the fabric against his skin and he smiled once more.

Steve didn't look like a girl, but he still looked beautiful.

 

**April, 1938**

A few months earlier, Steve would've felt bad about altering his mother's dresses, but as he finished the last stitches on one of them, he couldn't find it in himself to regret changing them. It hadn't taken much work to adjust the dresses to fit him better, not with the knowledge his ma had passed on during cold winter evenings, taking them up a few inches and narrowing them at the waist, and even though they were still a bit wide over the chest, Steve had a hard time hiding his smile at the feeling that came over him whenever he let himself enjoy the soft fabrics.

Time faded away into nothing as he sat down on the lumpy couch, letting the dress flow out around him. He stretched out fully, his short frame easily fitting the couch and he rested his head against the armrest and close his eyes, just for a moment.

Or so he thought.

"Stevie, I'm home early!"

Bucky's shout startled Steve so much that he almost fell off the couch, just barely managing to balance himself. Bucky had yet to look at him, instead shrugging out of his dusty jacket as he kept on talking.

"There were some issues with a shipment, they sent us home but I'll get more hours tomorrow instead and it'll be-"

Dropping the jacket on the chair by the front door, Bucky turned around and he froze in place as he stared at Steve, mouth still open. Steve was all too aware of what he looked like, there was no hiding his clothes when they were just a few feet from each other in the small apartment.

"Bucky," Steve breathed out, no idea what he should say.

Bucky stared in silence, his gaze traveling up and down Steve's body and Steve had to stop himself from taking a step backwards, from hiding himself.

"Stevie," Bucky said slowly, shaking his head.

"I can-" Steve started, but he couldn't explain. He had no idea what to say to make Bucky understand, much less accept. "

Steve licked his lips nervously, and Bucky took a step back, hand reaching out for the previously discarded jacket.

"No!" Steve cried out, reaching out but Bucky flinched away, despite of the distance between them. "I'll...as long as you…please…"

"I gotta… I can't be… I'm sorry," Bucky said weakly, shaking his head.

With that, Bucky grabbed his jacket and before Steve could get another word out, the door slammed behind his best friend and Steve found himself alone in the apartment. He didn't know how much time passed as he stood there, staring at the closed door and waiting for Bucky to come back, but by the time he looked around dusk had settled and Steve felt his eyes burning even as he forced the tears back.

Time moved syrupy slow and Steve had no idea how long he waited desperately for Bucky to come back. By the time he pulled himself out of his thoughts he found himself sitting on the couch, dusk had already settled and the apartment was dark around him. It was enough to tell him that hours had passed and Steve found himself wondering just what Bucky was thinking about him. And what he would say and do if Steve was still there when and if he did get back.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled to himself.

Before he could really think about it, he was in motion, dragging out his old suitcase from where it had been stacked under his narrow bed. Usually he would have folded his clothes neatly, stacked them carefully into the suitcase, but in that moment all he could think about was being out of the apartment before Bucky came back. There was no way that Steve could be there to see Bucky look at him with contempt or disgust.

He simply couldn't.

He pressed down on the lid, trying to force it closed, but he ended up having to sit on it to get it to fully close. Inside of it, he heard something crack and Steve winced, thinking of the pencils and brushes he had pushed inside. Lifting the suitcase Steve found it heavier than he had expected and it slammed into the floor before he could get it balanced in his grip. On the second attempt he hefted it more securely and took a step towards the door, prepared to leave everything he knew and loved behind him.

What he didn't expect was to turn around to find Bucky standing in the door, hand still on the door knob and gaze locked on the suitcase in Steve's hand.

"What're you doing?"

Bucky's voice rang out too loud in the otherwise quiet apartment, making Steve wince as he gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter.

"I'm… leaving…" Steve answered, not knowing fully what to say.

"You're...what?" Bucky asked, slowly stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "You're not. You're not fucking _leaving_."

"Why not?" Steve asked, straightening his back and glaring at Bucky with all the force he could muster. "I get that you can't...understand...this. Me. But I can't be here, I can't have you...be disgusted with me. All I want is for you to...like...me."

Bucky stared at him, mouth open and Steve waited for his friend to say something, but not a single word came out and in the end, Steve sighed and made his way to go past Bucky and out of the apartment.

"I could never," Bucky said, just as Steve was about to step around Bucky. "Steve, I could _never_ be disgusted with you. You're my Stevie."

Steve let out a low scoffing sound, but he did put his suitcase down.

"You left, for hours. Even if you don't...feel the way I do for you then…" Steve started before biting down on his lower lip, realizing what he had just revealed.

The next moment he found himself pushed up against the wall, Bucky crowding in close and a big hand came up to cup his cheek, forcing Steve to meet Bucky's wide blue gaze.

"I could never be disgusted with you, Steve," Bucky said firmly, conviction heavy in every word. "I was just surprised, shocked and just, confused. But you're my friend. My _best_ friend and nothing could ever change that."

Steve was all too aware of how big Bucky was compared to him, looming over him and even though he wasn't really holding Steve in place, he felt unable to move. Best friend was better than nothing, but Steve still felt his heart sink at the words.

"So you're okay with your best friend being a scag?" Steve spat out, looking at Bucky and he saw the way his friends eyes widened.

"You're not a scag," Bucky said vehemently. "You're beautiful. Man or woman, pants or dresses, you'll always be beautiful, Stevie."

"Right," Steve said, not able to believe what Bucky told him.

"What you said earlier," Bucky continued, "about me feeling the same… What did you mean?"

Steve had somehow managed to push that aside under the fear of how Bucky would react to the dress, but he had blurted out much more than he ever meant to.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It doesn't matter."

Bucky glared at him, hard enough for Steve to realize that he wouldn't be able to shrug it off as easily as he had hoped.

"I might…" Steve started but he wasn't sure how to explain it. "Your friendship is more important. It's just...feelings. I'll get over it"

Before Steve could answer, Bucky's mouth covered his and big, warm hands came down to rest on his hips, holding him close as the kiss deepened. Steve was frozen in place for several long moments before things started to slot into place.

"Bucky," Steve breathed out when Bucky pulled back half an inch. "Is this...for real?"

"It's very real," Bucky answered before kissing Steve again. "Of course I feel the same, you're my Stevie."

**December, 1938**

Steve's lips were red from kissing, from having Bucky's stubble chafe his skin just before Bucky left to work the last shift of Christmas Eve. At least he had Christmas Day free, and Steve was grateful for it. He hadn't felt good for a few days, the cold never being good for his lungs but it was the first winter where he couldn't really find it in himself to care. Some trouble breathing didn't matter when he fell asleep each night with Bucky's arm wrapped around his waist.

They had never really talked about the way they had fallen into intimacy. It was like they were simply pieces that slotted easily together. And if he allowed himself to think further about it, Steve knew that he didn't want to talk too much about it, afraid of breaking the perfect bubble that their apartment had became. A safe haven from the the world around them, and a place where they could be themselves. But even after months of kissing and touching, Steve still didn't feel secure with letting Bucky see him in the dresses. They might mean a lot to Steve, and it wasn't only because of the closeness they gave him to his mother. He didn't think Bucky fully understood why Steve wore the dresses.

He wasn't hiding, he just happened to be dressed in men's clothes most of the time when Bucky was around.

It was easier that way.

-¤-

Christmas was around the corner and while Steve had no idea how to get money for their Christmas dinner, he felt that it truly didn't matter. All he had managed to scrounge up money for were some simple turkey sandwiches and Bucky had promised to get them something to drink. It wasn't much, but even when he had nothing he still had Bucky.

Bucky who came in in a cloud of winter cold, closing the door behind him and shrugging away the layer of snow clinging to his shoulders and the hat perched on his head.

"That's it," Bucky said, "we're not going outside again until after New Year’s."

Steve found himself laughing. It was a nice thought, but if they wanted to have food in their bellies then going outside was absolutely needed long before the new year.

"Merry Christmas," Steve said, ignoring the cold surrounding Bucky and instead taking a step in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Merry Christmas," Bucky answered, putting down a small paper bag on their second-hand little kitchen table.

Once his hands were free he wrapped them around Steve, putting them on his waist and pulling him in close to deepen the kiss before reaching into the pocket of his winter coat to pull out something wrapped in brown paper and tied together with some string.

"I brought you this," Bucky said. "It's not much, but it made me think of you."

Steve reached out to take the small parcel, feeling how soft it was under the coarse paper and he took a deep breath before slowly pulling the string open. He could feel Bucky's eyes on him, trailing every movement.

"We said we wouldn't exchange gifts," Steve said, even though he himself had spent hours creating a drawing for Bucky.

"We say a lot of things we don't mean," Bucky said and even though Steve wasn't watching, he could sense Bucky shrug once more.

While Steve was looking at the small parcel, Bucky got out of his coat and put both it and his snow heavy shoes in front of the door to drip off.

"Steve, open it," Bucky said, walking over to sit down at the table and pulling two bottles of cheap beer out of the paper bag. He teased,"I promise, it's nothing dangerous."

Steve let out a small unamused huff, but he did fold the paper away and he felt something settle deep in his belly when he looked at the scarf inside. Unlike the ones he had left of his mother’s, the one in the small parcel wasn't yellowed with age, or worn so thin he was afraid it would rip. Instead it was white and the forget-me-nots embroidered on it showed no sign of wear.

"Bucky," Steve breathed out, carefully taking it up and letting the paper drop to the floor.

"I thought my best gal should have something pretty," Bucky said and when Steve looked at him, Bucky's lips were spread into a warm smile.

"Your best...gal?" Steve asked quietly.

"Whatever you want to be, Stevie," Bucky said softly. "I'll always support you. But you haven't really dressed like that, not for me at least, and I don't want you to ever think you need to hide. Not from me."

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat as he felt warmth start spreading through him. The gift might not be much but for Steve it was everything he wanted handed to him and tied up with a bow. He was accepted, just the way he hoped to be.

Wrapping the scarf around his neck, Steve closed the distance between them and sat down on Bucky's lap, something he very seldom allowed himself to do. Bucky put his hands on Steve's hip, pulling their bodies together and when their lips met, Steve forgot all about the too meager Christmas dinners or the beer getting luke warm on the kitchen table.

-¤-

**July, 1940**

Steve looked at himself in the mirror, smiling at himself when he took in the scarf wrapped around his shoulder and the soft dress making his thin frame look soft and feminine. He felt nothing like the scag he had first imagined himself being, not with the way Bucky looked at him or the way Bucky touched him.

Bucky would be home from work any minute and Steve dragged his fingers through his hair, messing it up slightly before pinching his cheeks to bring out some color. It was all he could do since he didn't own any makeup and his drawing pencils wouldn't do the trick even if he tried. Just as he thought about what more he could do, he heard the front door open and Bucky call out.

"You'd never guess what happened today at-"

Steve stepped out of the bathroom, and the way Bucky fell silent at the sight of him made Steve smile and slowly cross the room to where Bucky was standing, mouth agape.

"Fuck, Stevie," Bucky breathed out.

Steve knew what he looked like, the dress accentuating his narrow waist and still managing to make it look like Steve had curves. That in combination with the scarf and the set of perfectly fine heels that someone had thrown out and it was only the short hair that made Steve look anything but a dame.

"Hi, Bucky," Steve said. "I thought you might like this."

A big hand came up to brush Steve's cheek, rough fingers against soft skin and Steve found himself leaning into the touch.

"Like? Damn, Steve, you're gorgeous. I mean, you're always gorgeous but…"

It wasn't often that Bucky didn't know what to say and Steve found himself smiling, a smug little twist of lips at the way he could render Bucky speechless. Taking a step back Steve did a simple little twirl, showing himself off and he hear the way Bucky swallowed thickly.

"I wanna do something for you, Bucky," Steve said, meeting Bucky's gaze once more.

Bucky raised an eyebrow even as he looked up and down Steve's body with pure heat in his eyes.

"What?"

Steve didn't answer, instead he slowly sank to his knees in front of Bucky and reached up to unbuckle his belt. The dress flowed out around him, and Steve had never felt more desirable than he did in that moment.

"Are you…" Bucky said, his voice cracking slightly.

"I'm always sure, Bucky," Steve said, even though he was really nervous.

He hoped he looked the way he wanted to, staring up at Bucky before licking his lips and slowly leaning forward to run his tongue down the length of Bucky's cock. From the moan that escaped Bucky, it seemed he was doing the right thing and Steve smiled before letting his mouth slide down over Bucky's cock. The taste filled Steve's mouth and he found himself groaning, resting his hands on Bucky's strong thighs as he started working his mouth up and down Bucky's length.

"Oh, doll, so good."

That small word made Steve's heart soar, the pure joy of Bucky's acceptance making Steve shuffle forward slightly to get a better angle to swallow Bucky down. Big hands tangled in his hair and Steve groaned when Bucky pushed him down, pushing his cock deeper into Steve's mouth with a groan. The stretch of his mouth wasn't comfortable, but it felt _good_ and Steve tried to relax as he moved one hand down to cup Bucky's sac, feeling it already pull up tight.

"Babe, gonna come, fuck, can't hold it back with you looking like this."

Looking up, Steve met Bucky's gaze and he swallowed around the hard cock in his mouth. Bucky cried out and his head thunked back against the wall as Bucky came, pulsing down Steve's throat and Steve struggled to swallow down each last drop.

Pulling back he smiled up at Bucky, licking the last drops off his lips.

"You're perfect," Bucky breathed out before falling down on his knees and kissing Steve, not caring about the taste of himself on Steve's lips.

 

**December, 1941 - February, 1942**

Bucky sat leaning against the side of the window, one knee pulled up and his copy of Sad Cypress resting against his knee. Steve never got enough of watching, and sketching, Bucky when he found himself lost in a book, and with Bucky still in his church clothes it was even better. From the way the corner of Bucky's mouth was turned up, Steve knew that his friend was aware of Steve drawing him, tracing each beloved strand of hair in charcoal.

It wasn't often they both had a Sunday off to spend together. As much as some people believed in Sunday being a day of rest, both Bucky and Steve believed more in working and putting food on the table. Even they needed some time off every now and then. With both of them taking a few courses outside of work, they at least had access to the school, even on weekends thanks to the art teacher really liking Steve's work.

With the cold having taken New York in a firm grip, Steve was grateful for being able to hide in the school, a place that was much warmer than their small apartment.

"We should get back home soon," Bucky said without looking up from the book.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "We could both do with something to eat."

"We have some leftover past-" Bucky started only to suddenly go silent and his previously relaxed posture was gone as he stared at something out of the window.

Steve was just about to ask what Bucky had seen when he heard raised voices out in the corridor and the the next moment the door was flung open and a student Steve had seen around a few times was staring at them with wide eyes.

"They attacked us," he shouted. "They fucking attacked us!"

"We're at war!" someone else called out and that was enough to make Bucky forget all about the book and soon Steve found himself running after Bucky as they made their way out of the school and out to where people were gathering on the streets. People were talking, hushed voices getting drowned out by those crying or shouting and Steve got pushed back and forth by the gathering crowd before Bucky wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. In the bustle of people with upset faces, no one would look twice about two friends clinging together for comfort.

He couldn't really take in the news that travelled from mouth to mouth and he found himself hoping that the stories that had found their way to New York had been multiplied several times over. Steve didn't want to believe in a world where his country was attacked during peace negotiations.

Steve had always wanted to stand up against bullies, but in that moment he knew he wanted to do no less than the people fighting for peace.

-¤-

That Bucky had been drafted came as no surprise to Steve.

The realization that Bucky had been drafted, that Bucky would go to _war_ , however, that was a shock.

The fact that Steve had once more been denied to enlist was what got to him.

For all that Steve had protested about moving in with Bucky, in the years since Sarah's death, their small and drafty apartment had became home. It was only when Bucky was away at training camp that Steve realized that it wasn't the apartment that was home, it was Bucky.

Home was having Bucky wrap and arm around his waist and press kisses to his neck before they fell asleep. Home was the warmth in Bucky's eyes when Steve wore soft dresses and agreed to sit on Bucky's lap. Home was meager dinners shared between them and treasured like feasts because they got to have them together.

Without Bucky around, the cramped apartment felt too big and empty and the tendrils of cold air from outside seemed to wrap themselves even tighter around Steve when he didn't have Bucky to warm him up. Every breath he pulled in felt like fire going down his lungs and Steve wished he had the cigarettes that would sometimes help with his asthma, but even with the money Bucky managed to save away while in training, Steve barely ad enough money for rent and food, much less medicine of any kind. At least he had the letters that Bucky sent as often as he could.

_Stevie  
You wouldn't like Minnesota. I don't like Minnesota. There's nothing here but cold and snow and training, but at least I'll be prepared for the colder parts of Europe. _

_They're running us ragged, let me tell you. Worse than down at the docks, but here I know I might some day make a difference. I'll make sure to give those bullies some from you as well._

Letters didn't come close to actually having Bucky there, but was it was still good and it helped Steve through winter months where Bucky should have been right there. Or where Steve should have been with Bucky, had not his weak body once more betrayed him.

 

**August, 1942**

Steve stood looking out of the window, the view of nothing more than few dirty buildings and a dead end street, but it was a view that was home. It was even more home when Bucky stepped up behind him, resting a hand on Steve's hip and pressing a kiss to the back of Steve's neck.

"I've missed you," Steve said quietly, leaning back against the strong body behind him.

Bucky was only back for a week, on leave for the training camp in Minnesota, and they had spent a lot of time in bed, re-learning each others bodies.

"You look good like this," Bucky said, one hand trailing down Steve's bare shoulder, fingertips sliding in under the strap of the dress he was wearing.

The words made Steve smile and he turned around to face Bucky, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck and pushing up into a kiss that quickly went from sweet and innocent to something much more. It had been too long, months of no touching, and when Bucky's hands came down to cup Steve's ass through the soft material of the dress, he couldn't hold back a groan of pleasure. Responding to the sound, Bucky grabbed the fabric and pulled it up until his bare hand moved up over thin silk tap pants that Steve wore under, a gift from Bucky, as so many other of the finer things Steve owned.

"So soft," Bucky mumbled, but as his hand had moved up under the pants to move over Steve's flesh, he wasn't sure if Bucky was talking about the pants or Steve's skin.

"Touch me", Steve mumbled.

Even after days spent in bed, fingers and lips exploring each other bodies, Steve couldn't get enough of the way he felt when Bucky touched him. Bucky made him feel beautiful.

Bucky didn't respond, but his fingers brushed in under the hem of the tap pants to slowly move over the soft skin where the curve of his ass met the thigh and Steve found himself pressing forward, needing friction against his rapidly hardening cock.

"So soft," Bucky repeated once more, and that time it was clear that it was Steve's pale skin he was talking about.

Steve let out a low whine when Bucky pushed him away slightly, putting some distance between them, but before he could get a word of protest out, Bucky had pulled the dress up to Steve's waist to really be able to touch Steve where he most wanted it. When Bucky's big hand wrapped around his cock, Steve muffled a groan against his friend's chest, hips jerking forward without any conscious thought from Steve.

"Yes, go on," he moaned and he could hear Bucky's throaty laugh as a response.

"I got you, Stevie," Bucky mumbled. "I always got you."

His hand started moving, stroking up and down the length of Steve's cock, making him moan and shudder as the pleasure rose higher and higher. Bucky's other hand came up to tilt Steve's face up until they were kissing again, deep and hungry kisses that made Steve cling desperately to Bucky.

"Buck, I'm gonna…" Steve managed to get out before his orgasm rushed through him, coating Bucky's fingers and the silk of the tap pants.

"Fuck," Bucky said, pulling back enough to truly look at Steve.

Steve could only guess what he looked like with the warm light of the sunset coming in through the window and his lips red from kissing.

"So gorgeous like this, all flushed cheeks from my hands on you."

Steve surged forward, kissing Bucky again and it was his turn to get his hands on Bucky, to feel him big and warm in the palm of Steve's hand and touch him until everything else faded away and they collapsed into bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

It was in that moment, with Bucky's arms around him and Bucky's lips pressed into his hair, that Steve knew he would do anything to follow Bucky, even if it was into war.

 

 

**June, 1943**

Steve dragged the back of his hand over his face, wiping away the blood from his split lip before spitting the blood out of his mouth.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?"

The garbage can lid thrown aside, Steve had nothing to fight with but his bare hands, however, that had never stopped him before.

"I can do this all day," he lied, the taste of blood heavy on his tongue as he lunged forward and swung at the loud jerk's face.

He barely had time to react to what was happening before the guy's meaty fist connected with his face once more and Steve's vision flickered for a moment.

"Hey!" a familiar voice rang out, making Steve look up through the tangled mess of his hair. "Pick on someone your own size!"

The guy was quickly pulled off Steve, Bucky pushing him halfway out of the alley before the guy had time to react. The following punch was telegraphed a mile away and Steve wasn't surprised when Bucky ducked it much easier than Steve would ever have managed. The next moment Bucky punched the guy hard and a well aimed kick to the back had the guy running. Steve wasn't surprised that the bully ran away when he was faced with someone that could actually stand up to him. Steve struggled to his feet, brushing away the dirt from his clothes as Bucky turned back to him.

"Sometimes," Bucky said, "I think you like getting punched."

"I had him on the ropes," Steve muttered just as Bucky picked up the discarded enlistment papers that Steve had dropped.

"Oh, you're from Paramus now?" Bucky asked with a snort. "You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?"

It sounded like it was the Jersey part that Bucky had most issues with, he knew full well that Steve would try time and time again, in any way possible, to get enlisted. When Steve grabbed the papers back, he also got his first view of Bucky and the uniform that perfectly accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist.

"Did you get your orders?" Steve asked, trying to ignore the lump quickly forming in his belly at the thought of Bucky actually going to war.

"The one-o-seventh," Bucky answered proudly, chest puffing out slightly. "Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing in the morning."

It was too soon. Even after so long in training, Steve was in no way ready to see Bucky go to war and not being able to be there for him.

"I should be going," he said, annoyed.

"Come on, man!" Bucky said with a smile a bit too bright to be real. "It's my last night. Gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why?" Steve frowned, looking down at the dirty clothes and the blood on his knuckles. "Where are we going?"

"The future!" Bucky explained, slapping a newspaper into Steve's hands and Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition.

They had been talking about going to see it, Bucky with his love for figuring out how things worked and his brilliant mathematical mind wanted to see all the gadgets that Howard Stark was rumoured to be showing off. But that was before they found out that Bucky was leaving. If Steve could have it his way he would lock them both up in their crappy little apartment and never go outside again. However, that wasn't an option and Steve had no real choice but to follow Bucky for the last night of the two of them being in the same country.

-¤-

Bucky's arm rested casually around Steve's shoulder as they made their way from Stark and his barely-flying car, impressive as it was it wasn't how Steve wanted to spend the last night he had with Bucky.

People were mingling around them, laughing and talking as they went through the many different exhibits. Steve's gaze was drawn to where the big posters advertised the enlistment office and Steve took a step towards it before Bucky pulled him back.

"No, Steve," Bucky protested. "Stop that, you can't keep doing this."

Steve sighed heavily, shrugging off Bucky's shoulder and pushing himself up to his full height.

"Bucky, I have to do this."

"But there are other jobs you can do!" Bucky protested. "Other important stuff than fighting. I'll be over there, thinking of you and I need to know you're safe."

It was the closest they could come to publically say what they felt for each other, and in the privacy of their home the words were never really needed.

"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky," Steve protested. "Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives," Steve continued, trying to keep his voice from calling attention to them but he could still see a man at the enlistment office looking at them. "I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."

There was something soft in the way Bucky looked at him, something that showed that Bucky did understand, maybe more than Steve really wanted him to.

"Right," Bucky said dryly. "Cause you got nothing to prove."

They stared at each other for a full moment until someone knocked into Steve, pushing him forward against Bucky. It was enough to drag them out the silent communication that had been going on and Bucky gave a small nod.

"You know," he said, putting his arm back around Steve's shoulders and pointing the both of them towards the military office, "that's a horrible idea. Like I said, I want you safe. So don't do anything stupid until I get back."

Steve found the corner of his lips pull into a lopsided smile and he looked up at Bucky.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky grinned back at him, pulling Steve into a quick hug.

"You're a punk."

"Jerk," Steve mumbled against Bucky's chest. "Let's go home?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed.

Steve looked back over his shoulder and the man that had been watching them earlier was still looking at Steve, a thoughtful expression on his face.

-¤-

The moment they were through the door, Steve found himself pushed up against the wall and Bucky was pulling at clothes just as eagerly as Steve was working on the buttons of Bucky's uniform. Having walked around amongst people, with Bucky's arm around him was enough to make Steve's body hum with need. It was the closest they would ever come to be public.

"I wish I could show you off out there," Bucky groaned, kissing down Steve's neck. "Having you in your nice dress, make everyone see how pretty you are."

Steve tilted his head back, giving Bucky all the access he demanded as they stumbled the few steps to the narrow bed that that only managed to share because Steve was so small.

"I'm gonna miss this, you feel so perfect against me, Stevie," Bucky whispered, pushing Steve down on his back as he kissed down Steve's chest.

Bucky's warm lips on his body made Steve scramble to get the rest of his clothes off, needing to feel more of Bucky. A deep moan left him when Bucky's mouth closed over a nipple, circling it until Steve's fists clenched into the thin sheets beneath him.

"We'll do it again," Steve mumbled, pushing his chest up to meet Bucky's hungry mouth.

They both knew that no promises could be made, they had one night to create all the memories they could because even if they did get back to each other, they wouldn't be the same people. Bucky must know it as well, and he didn't say anything, but one hand clenched tighter over Steve's hip in a silent response.

The way that Bucky's mouth and hands moved over Steve's body was nothing short of worship and after years spent together, he knew just how to touch Steve to make every nerve ending of his body sing with pleasure. A low moan left him when Bucky placed one hand on the inside of Steve's thigh, pushing his legs apart and Steve had to look down to see it when Bucky moved further down until the tip of his tongue touched Steve's cock.

"Fuck," Steve groaned. "Yes!"

He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Bucky's tongue trail down his cock until it reached his balls, slowly sucking on the sensitive skin there. The pleasure pooled deep in his belly and Steve couldn't stop his hips from pushing upward in search of more.

"I got you", Bucky said, words muffled against the soft skin of Steve's thigh.

Steve had to bite down on his lower lip to stop his shout when Bucky's fingers brushed over his asshole, a soft touch over sensitive skin. He whined when Bucky's fingers pulled away but before he could ask for more they returned, this time his fingers were slick with Vaseline and Steve breathed out a deep sigh of pleasure.

"Relax," Bucky mumbled. "I'll make you feel so good."

"I know", Steve answered. He would always trust Bucky.

When the fingers pushed inside of him, Steve groaned and he forced himself to relax at the intrusion. It wasn't hard to do when Bucky's fingers brushed over the spot inside of Steve that seemed to be hardwired to pure pleasure. Bucky's mouth returned to Steve's cock, slowly wrapping his lips around it as he worked Steve open. Steve's body was small, but it opened up willingly under Bucky's skilled administrations, ready for the pleasure he knew Bucky could bring.

"I'm ready," Steve promised. "Do it."

Bucky's response was to suck Steve down to the root, tongue pressing against the underside of his cock at the same time as he added another finger.

"You jerk," Steve groaned. "Fuck me already."

Pulling free, Bucky laughed, a deep sound that reverberated through Steve but he did pull his fingers free before kneeling between Steve's thighs. He felt huge, looming over Steve like that and his tanned skin was a stark contrast to Steve who looked cream white in the barely there light.

"This is how I'll remember you," Bucky said, reaching down to align his hard cock to Steve's ass. "Beautiful and ready for me. Just like this."

"Bucky…" Steve breathed out.

He reached up, pulling Bucky down on top of him and their lips crashed together as Bucky pushed inside of him. Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist, pressing them close and they rocked against each other, kissing each other deeply and Steve's nails dragged down Bucky's back.

"Stevie, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart," Bucky moaned against Steve's lips.

Steve wished the night would drag out forever, a moment frozen in time where nothing existed but him and Bucky and the way that naked skin felt on naked skin. Each time Bucky pushed into him, Steve let out a low keening sound of pure pleasure and he hoped their neighbors wouldn't wonder about the sounds they made, or the way the bed creaked beneath their combined weight. With the way Bucky felt moving inside of him, and his own hard cock trapped between their bodies, Steve knew that he wouldn't need any more stimulation.

"The only thing that could be better, would be you in your dress," Bucky said in between desperate kisses. "My best guy. My best gal."

It was enough for Steve to cry out in surprise and his pleasure soared and Steve came hard, clinging to Bucky and muffling his pleasure into Bucky's mouth.

"Buck, fuck, Bucky!"

The next moment Bucky came as well and Steve felt the warmth inside of him, filling him up and he had never felt as close to Bucky as he did in that moment.

-¤-

"Bucky?" Steve asked, blinking his eyes open and sitting up in bed.

Beside him, Bucky stood, perfectly dressed in his uniform once more and Steve's throat went dry when he realized what was happening. It was still dark outside and the only light came from the small oil light on the bedside table.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," Bucky said, sitting down beside Steve. "I have to leave."

Steve knew it, had known for years that he would lose Bucky to a war that he couldn't help fight and all he could do was nod.

"Stay safe," Bucky told him, leaning in for a soft kiss. "Don't…"

He didn't continue it, but Steve thought he knew what it was about either way; Bucky asking for a promise that Steve wasn't ready to give. Steve needed to continue his attempts to follow Bucky, to fight, just as he knew he was meant to do.

"Go," Steve said quietly. "Go fight the war, and remember me."

"Always," Bucky promised him. "Dream of me."

Steve nodded and with one last kiss Bucky stood up and grabbed his knapsack before leaving the apartment they had shared since Sarah Rogers passed away. When the door clicked close behind him, Steve sank back into the bed and the tangled sheet that still smelled of them.

"I'm gonna follow you, Bucky," he promised himself.

The light wasn't fully up before Steve left the bed, got dressed and headed for the recruitment office at the World Exposition. He had somewhere to be.

_**The End** _

**Author's Note:**

> To leave love for the artist on Tumblr, [ click here.](http://king-of-moose.tumblr.com/post/162565216490/say-youll-remember-me-i-said-no-one-has-to-know)


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